


break

by Sauou



Category: Banana Bus Squad
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Smoke Break, a quiet moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 23:13:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10818744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sauou/pseuds/Sauou
Summary: Jonathan stops to take a break..





	break

The shop is closed, the lights long since out and everything is dark and silent behind the doors. A single light flickers far in the back of the store as Jonathan locks the door and activates the security alarm.

It’s late, again, and he’s just finished his shift but he’s too tired to go home yet, so he pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and sits down at the curb.

Street lamps are half lit all up and down the sidewalk, and from where he rests, legs stretched out into the street, he can see all the way down two roads at once, farther than you could ever see in the day.

The night is shallow and slow to carry on, it lingers about the edges of buildings and street signs. Coiling up in the dark alley across from him where black settles in like smoke and there he keeps one eye.

But he shakes the pack of cigarettes, knocking one loose then slipping it between his lips. It’s a familiar presence there, and just the slightest taste of paper, the touch of it on his mouth is enough to soothe his frayed nerves.

He is pulling out his lighter when his phone buzzes, and he pauses for a moment, but flips open the zippo with a click. It takes two tries, but a flame soon sparks and his hands glow with the faint golden light, the heat warming him as he cups his fingers around the heat and lights the cigarette.

The flame catches, and he breathes in, two short puffs and shakes the fire from the lighter with a movement so ingrained in him that he barely notices it. Blowing the smoke out slowly and staring across the street.

The night is an old ghost, haunting over vacant roads and flickering between neon shop signs. It’s shaded in pale red and soft purples where it touches the light.

His phone buzzes again, and again.

Its too late and he’s too tired. He shifts to the side to pull his phone from his back pocket, cigarette dangling loosely in his hands as he unlocks the screen and the light reflects on his face.

“ _Where are you?_  
When are you coming home?  
Don’t be late.”

Is waiting for him like he knew it would be, but it’s a long walk back and there’s still time yet. So he stretches out, catches his shoes in the line between street and sidewalk, and smokes.


End file.
